Hay wagon came. I was told that the bales were real green, heavier than usual, and that if I could move 10 of them to call it a night and consider it a job well done. Well, I managed to get 50 off the wagon and stacked in a neat pile far taller than I am in a little over an hour. I’m just about half done, I’ll do the rest first thing tomorrow morning. Certainly no record, but I’d take putting away hay over putting away folded laundry any day of the week. Removing the bales from the wagon, which are thrown in haphazardly by the baler towering well above my head, is like playing Jenga in reverse.
I had to stop unloading hay because the vet came to put down Cindy Ray for me. She had recovered from her mange, her coat was thick and glossy and black (she was at one point this summer 95% bald) but she was developing hundreds of papules all over her skin that quickly became infected, and she had a massive cyst under her still scaly tail that would not heal. We looked a step away from gangrene. It was very clear to me that as our vet suspected initially that her immune system was not keeping up with her needs, and likely would never.
My hands were the first to touch her to bring her into this world and the last to hold her as she passed from it.
My heart is heavy today.